


Letters in a Tin Box

by Alice_In_The_Sky



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Because I write when I'm very stressed, I'm not certain where this came from, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_In_The_Sky/pseuds/Alice_In_The_Sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was sent to him by post and arrived just a month after Targent's capture. </p><p>After the last time he saw that man fall to his demise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters in a Tin Box

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, (because this is a letter kind of fic...)
> 
> Hullo. XDD I suppose this is kinda AU, because I still don't want to believe that bit at the end of Azran Legacy about Descole and Layton to be true. (I have a headcannon that will be explained as the fic goes on.) Heaven help me, I still ship these guys with the passion burning like a thousand suns and I haven't shipped like this in over a decade!! XDDD They make me want to write and they relieve stress and I haven't written a fic as much as I have for them in a long time. I have several documents of drafts of fanfics in my comp. XDD And I love these men so. XDD
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Thank you.
> 
> Alice

It was sent to him by post and arrived just a month after the leader of Targent was arrested.

After the last time he saw the mask man fall to his demise.

To be frank, he didn't believe that one Jean Descole was dead. The man had nine lives like a cat, perhaps more. He could survive anything. Layton often thought that he'd suddenly turn up one day and smirk his mocking grin at him and then walk all over like it was nothing.

He hoped he would.

Yet, day after day, then week after week, the masked man didn't show.

Jean Descole was another casualty, another name on the long list of atrocities Targent was now charged with.

Another rope, around the neck of the man who would have been his stepfather in another time and place.

But then out of the blue, a small parcel arrived. Wrapped in brown paper with no address save his own. Written in that familiar, atrocious script that he'd long recognized as that man's and that man's alone.

Unwrapped, it was a simple, worn tin box. The design upon its lid now long faded, and chipped. Though worn, it was obvious that it was well cared for by whomever the owner was.

Layton half-expected some trick to it, a puzzle that's just for him.

Yet, there were no puzzles there.

He sat on his bed, staring at the tin box for a long time, debating whether or not to open it now.

Or later...

Perhaps never.

But there were things to do, and people to meet and classes to teach. And so he left that tin box sitting upon his dressing table to attend to his duties as any gentleman should do. Duty before pleasure he supposed.

And Hershel Layton was a gentleman.

He'd put thoughts of that tin box away from his mind. He solved a simple robbery case when the Yard came calling him that day, then revised the papers his students turned in. He taught Luke History and Math and other subjects, solved riddles and puzzles littering the many places of London.

And he came home late that night.

It almost felt like the moon was conspiring against him. For as soon as he came into his bedroom, he saw that tin box, shining a dull silver with the moonlight reflected upon it.

He didn't bother to open the lights.

Drawn, Layton took a few tentative steps then stopped before he shook himself. What sort of man was he, to be so frightened of a tin box and its contents? He took a deep breath as if gathering all the courage in the world. With renewed determination, he crossed the room toward where the tin box lay; took it in his hands and sat on his bed then reached out top flip the switch on his bedside lamp.

The tin box was cool in his hands, with no tricks whatsoever upon closer examination. Some part of Layton wished there was something else but no, this was what it was.

Just a tin box.

He shook it and there were shuffling sounds within.

Carefully, Layton opened the tin box.

Inside it, lay hundreds of papers. Each one yellowed with age and filled with letters and splotched ink with that appalling handwriting. There were dates on each and every one of them and in the bottom of that tin box were small tokens.

With trembling hands he reached out to one of the letters.

 _Dear Hershel,_ [it began,]

He dropped the letter immediately, the paper fluttering to the floor. He snapped back to the rest of the contents of the tin box. All the papers were letters addressed to him. All of the letters started the same.

_Dear Hershel,_

And each one ended the same.

_Be safe._

It was never signed with a name. Yet he knew from whom they came from. His world was once more shaken.

The tears, when they finally came, were unexpected. He swore after Claire's funeral, that he would never allow tears to flow from his eyes. To never feel grief or despair. To protect himself from loneliness. He swore that he would no longer lose people he cared for like he had her. Still it happened and he could no longer hold his despair at bay. Surrounded by the letters, Hershel Layton lay upon the his bed, in grief of what could have been, as the life of the masked man unraveled before his eyes.

 

* * *

**END OF PART ONE**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, the grammar and spelling mistakes aren't too bad. I'll fix them a bit later if there are. English is not my first language so I have to keep reading and re-reading stuff to make corrections. Should I keep going? 
> 
> I've made a tumblr account a few days ago, but there's not much there but my drawings. If you like to take a look at them, it's mterrenal.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope this was all right. Thank you for reading.


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